Weight of the World
by sexierthanthetardis
Summary: in the Endverse, Castiel tries to help Dean with all the problems he is dealing with. angst and light destiel.


Cas had been having issues for a while. It felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he couldn't escape it. Of course he tried to, at first with sex and then with drugs, but it was getting harder and harder to escape. Most nights he would thrash around in his sleep, plagued with horrific nightmares. Some nights he would calm down and attempt to sleep again. Other nights, he would succumb to the sweet relief brought by running a blade across his skin.

He would always pretend he was fine in the morning. When the camp's fearless leader came by to take him to a meeting or ask if he wanted to come on a raid, he would plaster his fake smile on his face and pretend everything wasn't falling apart at the seams. Sometimes he would even take twice as many pills, knowing he was killing himself, just so he could put on that fake smile for Dean.

Even though Dean couldn't tell when it all became too much for Cas, Cas could tell when everything started coming down on Dean. It was a gradual drop, nothing fast, but Cas could see as he was losing his grip on it all. When he looked into those impossibly green eyes, he didn't see the resolve to save the world; instead he saw a man who was just trying to push off the suicidal thoughts for one more day, and then one more day after that.

At first Cas ignored it. It was the apocalypse after all and everyone had to break sometime. The only problem was that Dean never hit his breaking point. There weren't any violent outbursts or emotional meltdowns; he just kept falling deeper and deeper into a hole without hitting rock bottom. After a few months, Cas got worried and decided that he needed to try and help his friend.

"Hey Dean," Cas said when they returned from a raid.

"Yeah?" Dean replied, sounding tired.

"Can I talk to you later?"

Dean shrugged, "Sure."

Everyone unloaded the few supplies they managed to scavenge that day and delivered them to their warehouses where Chuck accounted for each item. Everyone began walking back to their tents, but Cas could hear Chuck telling Dean about how they were running out of everything faster than they were collecting. Dean of course said he would handle it, but inside he knew that everything was going to run out altogether pretty soon.

"What do you want?" Dean asked as he entered Cas's tent, closing the door behind him.

Cas patted the bed beside him, motioning for Dean to come sit down next to him. Sighing, Dean made his way across the room and plopped down on the bed.

"I know you don't like this kind of thing, but I'm worried about you. Anyone would crack under the pressure that you're under and you need to talk to someone."

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Cas, I'm fine," he said, standing up to leave, "I'm just a little tired from the raid is all-"

Cas grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down, "No, you're not fine. If you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders it'll crush you. Let me help and talk to me."

Dean looked into Cas's pleading blue eyes and sighed.

"Fine," Dean said, laying on his back to look at the ceiling, "Besides the whole apocalypse thing were running out of supplies. The camp is going to have to start turning people away soon. We're running low on weapons. The people in the camp are dropping off like flies every time we leave this place. I've had to kill so many good men that got infected that I've lost count. I don't sleep anymore. I used to have nightmares, but now it's just sick what my mind likes to throw at me. I have to be the fearless leader when in reality I just bang everyone who will let me to avoid having a meltdown. And the worst part…"

Dean trailed off, and Cas could see there were tears welling up in his eyes.

"No matter what I do, I can't change the past. I abandoned Sammy and not fucking Lucifer is using him as a meat suit to destroy the planet. I can't even imagine what he must be feeling right now, and it's all my fault."

When he finished, Dean was crying. He ignored them, hoping that if he didn't acknowledge them that they would disappear, but Cas could see them.

Cas ran his thumb over his friend's cheek, wiping away the water that was there. He could tell him that everything would be okay; he could tell him that it wasn't all his fault, but it would be useless. Dean wouldn't believe it even if it were true. Instead he kicked his shoes off and lay down next to his friend, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm helping keep away nightmares for the night so that you can finally sleep."

Dean considered protesting, but decided against it, enjoying the warm embrace.

"Thanks Cas," he whispered, pulling His former angel closer, "I needed that."

"Welcome Dean."

"And tomorrow you can talk to me about those scars on your arms and the pills you're burning through."

Cas smiled and placed a small kiss on his friend's nose.

"Thanks Dean."


End file.
